


Of Truths and Consequences

by winterisakiller (sparkinside)



Series: Last Minutes &  Lost Evenings [7]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-17 00:03:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16964001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkinside/pseuds/winterisakiller
Summary: They say confession is good for the soul, but at what cost?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So here is the first part of the next installment in Tom and Rosie's story. This was initially supposed to happen much later, but this Tom had other ideas.

‘ _I’ve been skirting round the rim of doing something_  
 _Brave, and not just standing, but jumping in_  
 _Of making circles into squares, of laying down_   
_The bare facts like a burden I can’t bear._   
_And I can almost find the words, but I can see the way you’d_  
 _Fold your hands, speak my name like a curse_  
 _Upon your pretty lips, the pressured white behind your fingertips_

 _And when you see me for all that I am_  
 _I couldn’t make mistakes to make a difference anymore._  
 _I’d throw myself down on my knees, at your hands,_  
 _And beg you for forgiveness for my fuck ups and my faults._  
 _And maybe you’d relent and release some hope for our forever,_  
 _Lift up your precious hands, and then bring yours and mind together_ ’

Plain Sailing Weather – Frank Turner

 

He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing; standing there before her closed door. _I shouldn’t be here_. He’d battled with himself the entire way from his home to her door; he didn’t have any right coming here, talking to her. Not now. Not after all this time. 

But he couldn’t get her out of his head. Their chance run in had played through his mind all throughout his meal with Ben and, truthfully, for the majority of the week that had followed. 

Ben had cottoned on that something was amiss with his friend almost as soon as Tom had sat down. And he’d wasted little time in questioning him on it. Tom hadn’t had the energy or desire to protest that he was fine or merely tired. He’d had enough of lying; nothing good had ever seemed to come of it. He simply ordered himself a drink and prepared to finally put to words what had been spinning round his mind for the last six months.

As the two men drank, Tom slowly poured his heart out. He told Ben everything; how he’d met Rosemary, the growing attraction he’d tried to fight; to mask as something, _anything_ , else. How long they’d carried out their involvement without speaking of what they were doing or why. The way he’d finally realized he loved her and the fear that that realization had unleashed. How she had finally put words to what he had unconsciously known for the longest time and how that had crystalized his plan to protect her, to push her away for her own good. Just how hard it had been to walk away, how hard the last half a year had been. How he’d fallen into a similar pattern with Natalie, though admittedly with the boundaries he’d lacked before. His guilt and disgust at himself for the way he allowed himself to treat the women he’d pulled into his life. About seeing Rosemary again, learning she had moved on, and how it physically hurt, even though he had known it was a pain of his own making. 

Ben, to his credit, sat and listened to Tom ramble on without saying a word. Tom knew that his silence would not last for long; he could see the questions and disapproval burning in his friend’s eyes. And he knew that he deserved whatever censure Ben would throw at him. And Ben did not disappoint. 

“You are an idiot,” The words were even, matter of fact, and hung in the air between them. “And a selfish one at that.” Tom could only nod his head in response. What else could he say? He’d thought the same thing countless times since that day. But he’d plowed on regardless, so certain in the knowledge that he was right. That what he was doing was right. _Of all the arrogant notions…_

“I get it, Tom. Really I do,” Ben started once more after it became clear Tom wasn’t going to add anything to the conversation at that juncture. “But you just can’t fly off half-cocked like that. It’s not just your call, mate…What do you think Sophie would have done had I done that to her?” Ben queried, his gaze narrowing at Tom’s shrinking form.

Tom sat silent for several moments before answering, “She would have torn you a new one.” And he could picture it far too well. He liked Ben’s wife; she was more than a match for his friend, bold and self-assured. She wouldn’t have taken Ben deciding something so major without her knowledge nor consent well at all. _Hell hath no fury…_

Ben laughed in earnest, “Too right she would and I wouldn’t fucking blame her for it.” He sighed, resting his elbows on the table. “You’ve really cocked things up, my friend. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

It was Tom’s turn to sigh. It hurt, having his thoughts echoed by someone he trusted to be nothing but honest with him. There was little joy in knowing that he’d been right. He had cocked things up on an epic scale and now he hadn’t the first idea how to fix it or if he even had the right to try. But God, he wanted to. “What do I do?” He whispered, more to himself than to his friend. “How do I fix this?”

Ben clapped a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Leave it be, Tom. Just leave it be.”

But Tom couldn’t seem to. No matter how he tried to occupy himself his mind would circle back around to Rosemary and the look on her face. He wanted desperately to make it right; to let her know that the problem was never her. It was him, always him. He couldn’t shake the idea that maybe, just maybe, if he could explain then it would bring some infinitesimal amount of closure for her and maybe for him as well. And then maybe…

As he stood before her door, hand raised he wondered again if this was the right thing to do. He ached desperately to see her, to tell her how sorry he was. To tell her that he loved her, both then and now, even though he knew it would make little difference. He had lost her and he doubted anything would change that. But she deserved to know. Didn’t she?

His knuckles wrapped against the painted wood of the door. He stiffened slightly as he heard her voice, muffled and indistinct but decidedly hers. Panic gripped him. God, this wasn’t a good idea. He inhaled sharply as the door opened. 

Surprise merged into confusion then concern in the depths of Rosemary’s hazel eyes. She stood, staring at him her arms crossed protectively against her chest. “What…Tom, what are you doing here?”

He swallowed against the panic that rose inside him. “I just…Can we talk?”

Rosemary blinked in confusion before gathering herself enough to ask, “About what?” She hadn’t moved her arms nor stepped aside to allow him entry. He would have been surprised if she had. _God knows I would slam the damned door in my fucking face_. 

“About what happened between us.” She flinched at his words and it tore his heart. He had to fix this. To try to make it right. He owed her that much. “Please, just let me say my peace and I will go. _Please_.”

Her eyes narrowed and he could see the warring indecision in her eyes. And in that moment he wanted desperately to hold her; to sooth her. But that wasn’t his place. How was he supposed to provide comfort when he was the one who had caused the pain in the first place? Maybe this hadn’t been the best idea. God, he just didn’t know. 

Several painfully silent minutes passed before she stepped aside. Torn between gratitude that she hadn’t slammed the door in his face and sheer terror at the enormity of what he wanted to confess, what he _needed to confess_ , Tom stood frozen. Could he really do this? Did he have the right to do this now? To drag every back up again? Would she understand why? Would she hate him for it? The all too familiar doubts and uncertainties plagued him. He wanted to run. God, he wanted to run. But it was far, far too late for that now. 

Steadying himself, Tom walked past Rosemary and into the flat. He heard her follow and close the door. His eyes wandered over the tiny living room, taking in every small detail. It looked the same. He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry. So much had changed, but this tiny part had remained the same. Memories threatened to overwhelm him. So many small, happy moments had happened here. He sobered almost at once. All of those memories had been overshadowed by his own fear and stubborn need to protect her. He froze once more. 

He heard her clear her throat behind him. “You wanted to talk…So talk.” Her voice was steady, far steadier than his was sure to be. He swallowed again before curling his hands into fists and forcing himself to turn around and face her. 

The words didn’t seem to want to come; not at first. He started and stumbled to a stop for what felt like ages until finally, _finally_ , they tumbled out. How he had lied to her, how much she had meant, _still_ meant, to him. Why he’d done it. How dreadfully sorry he was for the pain he knew he’d caused her. 

He watched her face as he spoke. Wanting, hoping for some sign of her thoughts on her face. But she stood, her face empty, lips drawn together in a tight line. 

“I don’t understand,” Rosemary uttered after several moments of silence had passed. Her eyes locked on his; confusion, hurt, and disbelief shining in their depths.

Tom ducked his head, unable to hold her gaze. Hating himself for the pain he caused her. That he kept causing her. “I didn’t mean it. What I said to you that day,” he started, slowly raising his head. “I love you. God, I love you. But I’m not good for you. My life isn’t good for you. It would have torn you apart and I couldn’t have that. I’m sorry. Oh Rosie, I’m so sorry.” The words poured out of him, he couldn’t have stopped them if he tried.

“Don’t call me that,” she hissed.

He flinched at her words; at the anguish in her tone. _I did this. My fault_. He wanted to pull her to him; to hold her, to comfort her. But he hadn’t the right. He’d thrown it away that day and he didn’t know if he would ever be able to earn it back.

Her eyes narrowed, anger swirling brightly. “What gave you the right?” 

The words hit him like a physical blow. He stared at her in disbelief, confusion and pain coloring his features. “What?” he breathed.

“I said,” she began again, taking a breath, her voice cool and steady. “What gave you the right?” Her eyes were burning into his. “How dare you decide what I can or can’t handle? How dare you treat me like a fucking child who doesn’t know their own mind? How fucking DARE you.”

He stood, frozen. He didn’t know what he could say in answer. She was right. Of course she was right. He’d acted out of concern, misguided as it was, but he hadn’t stopped to consider what she wanted. What she felt. He’d decided, in all his arrogant glory that he knew what was best for her. For them both. He was stupid and cowardly and so utterly selfish. 

“I am so sorry,” he started again, knowing the words were far too little and far, far too late. “I was selfish and careless and I know it doesn’t fix anything. That this doesn’t change anything. But I am so desperately sorry.” He could feel his eyes burning, the tears threatening to overwhelm him. 

She stood there, arms crossed protectively across her chest. She didn’t speak but he could feel the rage of emotion pouring off her. He kept doing this. Kept hurting her. He shouldn’t have come. Shouldn’t have confessed. Here he was, once again, selfishly putting his need to confess, to explain, above all else. Guilt flooded through him. God, why didn’t he ever fucking learn?

“I think you should leave.”

The tears did spill then. 

He nodded silently. She had every right to tell him to leave; he couldn’t blame her for wanting him to. He had gone and done the exact same thing to her again. He had allowed himself to unload his guilt onto her to ease his own conscious. 

“Goodbye, Rosie.”


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

‘ _Oh my friend loneliness, where have you been?_  
_You left me to the lure of a lover who left me alone._  
_But now you come crawling back, and I’ll let you in,_  
_And we’ll slip back into grooves that we cut in ourselves long ago_ ’

Better Half – Frank Turner

 

She heard the door click closed behind him. The finality of it brought forth memories of the last time he’d left her flat; of the words he’d spoken and of the way she’d watched a part of her world die as what they had did. And, like that time, she didn’t bother to fight the tears. Collapsing in a heap on the floor she cried until she couldn’t breathe. She didn’t know what to think. What to feel. She hated it, and in that moment, hated him.

How could he keep doing this to her? Why did she keep letting him? She felt weak and so thoroughly stupid because of it. Why couldn’t he just stay gone? She’d been moving on, pulling herself back together. It wasn’t perfect but she was _trying_. And then he dropped back into her life and did what he’d always done, tore it apart.

She shook her head. That wasn’t fair. She was just as much to blame for letting him in. She’d known the damage he’d done; that he could still do, and she’d still let him back into her life, into her flat, into her heart.

If she allowed herself to step back and look at what he’d told her objectively Rosemary could admit that Tom’s fears had a very firm basis in reality. She’d read gossip rags a time or two in her life, she’d seen the way women linked to men like Tom had been torn to shreds. Not just by the press but by people who professed themselves to be fans. It was ugly and cruel and she could understand why Tom wouldn’t want to expose her to it.

But that didn’t excuse his behavior; his disregard for her and for her feelings. He’d decided, without any input or consideration, that she couldn’t handle it. That he knew best and he’d broken her heart. She wanted scream at the confusing and conflicting feelings that surged through her. She loved him; had never stopped loving him. And that part of her wept with joy to know that he loved her too. But it wasn’t enough. The bitter knowledge of that stung.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat on the floor, knees pulled to her chest. It felt like forever and yet like no time at all. Her mind was a jumble of swirling thoughts and emotions. She vaguely acknowledged the rattle of the doorknob which was quickly followed by a familiar, frustrated voice. “Rose, seriously what have I told you about locking…Rose?” Jules’ voice trailed off. “Honey, what happened? Are you alright?”

Rosemary wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt and turned to face her friend. In the chaos of the last few hours she had completely forgotten that they had agreed to meet for lunch. “I…” She began, not quite sure how to answer. Was she alright? God, that was a loaded question. “Yes…No...I don’t know,” she uttered before breaking into a fresh round of tears. God, what was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she get a fucking grip?

Jules immediately dropped to her knees, pulling Rosemary into a tight embrace. She let allowed Rosemary to cry in earnest and when she finally seemed to gain control of herself once more Jules pulled back, brushing Rosemary’s hair from her face. “What’s happened?”

“Tom…” _Was here. He LOVES me. He LIED to me. I don’t know what to do. Please tell me what to do!_

She felt Jules stiffen against her and mumble, “fucking arrogant son of a whore” under her breath before addressing Rosemary, “What did he do?”

Rosemary had told Jules about their run in a week prior and Jules had reacted in the exact way she expected her to. And she let her friend rail against Tom, knowing there wasn’t any real point in trying to stop her. Once she had paused for breath, Rosemary confessed her own feelings of confusion at the encounter. And Jules had listened, albeit with poor grace. Anything regarding Tom seemed to set her off. But she listened, offering words of comfort at appropriate intervals and reminding her that whatever had happened with Tom as over and done with; that she had Bryan now.

Bryan. He’d been far better than she would have been had their positions been reversed. He’d walked her home that night, kissed her gently, and said “I think I’m beginning to understand.”

He hadn’t brought that night or Tom up in conversation since, but she knew he’d wanted to. She certainly would have. And she was glad he hadn’t, how could she ever hope to explain what had happened to Bryan when she could barely explain it to herself.

“He said he loves me.” Rosemary whispered before she broke down into tears again. God, she hated this. Why couldn’t she stop crying? “He told me he lied to me, Jules. He said he pushed me away to keep me safe. I just…Why didn’t he talk to me? Why didn’t he tell me before? What’s so wrong with me that made him think I couldn’t handle…”

“Stop it!” Jules tone was firm, her green eyes flashing in anger. “Don’t you dare let that arrogant bastard make you question yourself! You are so much better than that!” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “How do you know he’s not lying to you now? How do you know he’s not trying to worm his way back into your life?”

Rosemary winced. As angry as she had been with Tom and, in truth, with herself, she had never once considered such a possibility. He’d hurt her, that was something she couldn’t ignore, but she knew he hadn’t set out with the intention of doing so. _But he is an actor. And a good one at that…_

She shook her head violently. “No,” she spoke aloud to both herself and Jules. “I don’t believe that. He may be a lot of things but he’s not that cold.”

Jules stared at her in disbelief, “Please don’t tell me you’re just going to let _him_ get away with this. That you’re just going to let him right back in. Jesus, Rose…”

“I’m not, Jules. I _can’t_. He hurt me. I trusted him and he _lied_. I can’t just let him back in but I don’t know if I can just walk away either.” She couldn’t trust him, not completely and certainly not now, but neither could she contemplate closing the door on him. She didn’t, couldn’t, allow herself to acknowledge why.

“What about Bryan? Are you willing to just throw him away? Throw away something I know has been one of the few things that makes you smile? Someone I know makes you happy?” Jules was indignant.

It was Rosemary’s turn to stare in disbelief. “I’m not throwing anything away!” She shot back, “I’m not walking away from Bryan. Where the fuck do you get off even suggesting that?”

“I know you, Rose. I know how you get when _he_ is concerned. You put _him_ above all else,” Jules narrowed her eyes.

Rosemary knew she couldn’t challenge her on that. She had so often put Tom above herself. Catered to his needs. She hadn’t thought on it at the time, she had simply wanted to be there for him, whenever and however he needed her. She loved him and had wanted him to need her in return.

Message delivered, Jules continued. “Bryan’s a good person and he doesn’t deserve that.”

“Tom,” She faltered slightly before catching herself and plowing onward, “is not a threat to what Bryan and I have. He’s not a part of it.” She swallowed, knowing even as she spoke the words that they weren’t completely true.

Tom _had_ played a part, and a large one at that, in what had developed between herself and Bryan. He’d made her cautious, made her want to have everything in this new relationship defined and concrete. But she cared for Bryan. Deeply. And she refused to let Tom hold anymore sway in her relationship. Regardless of what feelings still stood between them.

“Jules, please just trust me on this,” she pleaded, “I have no interest in even entertaining the idea of _something_ with Tom. I trusted him and he broke that trust. I can’t do that to myself again. Bryan is a good man. He’s good to me. He’s good _for_ me. I’m not walking away from that.”

Neither woman spoke for several minutes.

“Just be careful, Rose.”


End file.
